


Silence / Truth

by waywardangel (leviarty)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Everybody Lives, First Kiss, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Post-Finale, but written post-Despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leviarty/pseuds/waywardangel
Summary: "I want back what's mine."
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 203





	1. Side A

**Author's Note:**

> This is a spiritual successor to [What Drives You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471301); they aren’t strictly linked, and I don’t think one requires the other, but they were planned out together, and I had intended that it would end like this.

It was finally, _mercifully_ , quiet. No more screaming, no more hopeless crying out, no more chattering through the thinned walls of the void.

Just silence.

Uninterrupted, blissful _silence_.

boom

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

BOOM!

It let out a boiling, rage-filled scream.

“What is that racket?” It cried out, taking the form of a particularly vile demon that slept there.

“Hello,” the boy said, his hand raised in a wave. There was a small smile on his lips, as though he hadn’t just woken an angry cosmic entity.

“ _You_ ,” It hissed.

“I’m not going to explode this time,” he said. “Probably.”

Its nostrils flared. It reached out with a slithering, tentacle-like hand, intent on bringing the boy to his knees.

He coughed slightly. No physical connection was made, but It didn’t usually need _contact_ to create torment in this place.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I know you thought you would have more control over me here.”

“What is _happening?_ ” It snarled.

There came another boom, and this time a chorus of lost and confused voices came with it.

And they wouldn’t…

_Stop_.

“AHH!” It cried out, covering Its ears in pain. It did nothing to quell the voices, echoing through its entire existence.

“It’s a long story,” the boy said. A figure appeared on either side of him. Sam and Dean Winchester, It recognized from the memories of many angels and demons who had been killed by them. “You probably don’t want to hear it, really.”

“Suffice to say,” the older Winchester spoke. “Between the three of us, we’ve killed a _lot_ of things. Angels, demons, a few deities. Hell, I’ve killed Death twice. And now we’ve killed _God_. You think we can’t bang a few cosmic pots and pans?”

“Why are you doing this?” It asked. “ _How_ are you doing this?”

“I want back what’s mine,” Dean said simply.

It rolled Its eyes and let out an exasperated groan. “Why?” It asked, staring up into the emptiness, as though speaking to some higher power. “Why is this one angel so difficult?” It looked back to Sam, and Dean, and Jack. “Fine,” It said, snapping Its fingers.

Castiel materialized between them. “What… Dean? What’s happening?” he asked, looking around in confusion.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” It said. “Never return to this place. Go somewhere else when you die. Anywhere else, I don’t care. But I never want to see you again.”

“Works for me,” Dean said, grabbing Cas’ hand. The pair of them vanished, and for just a moment, the cacophonous voices quieted.

And then they rose again.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” It screeched.

“Just one more thing,” the long-haired Winchester said. “We need a few others released.”

It laughed. “And why, _why_ do you think I would do that?”

“Because it’s so very loud in here,” the boy said.

“In order to maintain our universe, and the barriers between realms, we need more celestial beings than we currently have. Without them, everything fails. And if that happens, Earth, Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, Empty, all of it collapses. One formless chaos, without order. And you will never know peace again.”

“But if you release those we ask for, you can go back to sleep. And we’ll never bother you again.”

It roared.

“Fine,” It said, spitting Its words at them. “Who must I release to make it _STOP_?”

“The archangel Gabriel. The angels Balthazar, Gadreel, Anna, Akobel, and Samandriel. The demons we know as Crowley and Meg.”

“Oh, is that all,” It said, Its voice dripping the sarcasm and bile.

“That is the bare minimum in order to maintain balance,” Sam said.

“Fine. They are released. Now _LEAVE_.”

The Winchester nodded, then both he and the boy faded from Its domain, taking all the noise with them.

And finally…

Silence fell.


	2. Side B

There was no silence in the car as they rode home from the middle of nowhere, Montana—the closest thin-spot between realms they had been able to find. Music played quietly through the speakers as Dean drove down the lesser travelled highway, and rain splattered noisily against the windows. Such simple things, music, and rain. But Castiel thought he’d never experience those things again.

Jack sat next to him, clinging to his arm where he had fallen asleep several mile-markers back. Sam was also asleep, slumped against the cool window in front of him. Dean stifled a yawn. Whatever they had done to gain access to the Empty, and perhaps whatever had come before that, had thoroughly exhausted them all.

“I can drive for a while,” Castiel offered.

“Like hell you can,” Dean said. He cranked the music a little louder, not enough to disturb the sleeping passengers, but enough to keep himself awake.

“You shouldn’t have done what you did,” Cas said a while later. “It was too much risk.”

“Yeah, well, you’re family.”

Cas smiled as he looked back out the window. He had had a sliver of a doubt… the slightest worry that his confession might’ve changed how Dean viewed their relationship. But he still considered them family.

And that was more than enough.

The bunker was in disarray. Dozens of doors broken down, tables and chairs lie either broken or overturned. Books and artifacts had been thrown from their shelves, scattered not just around the main library, but into every adjacent room.

“Welcome home,” Dean said.

Jack gathered up four mostly unbroken chairs, setting them up around a table covered in debris and ancient scrolls—which Dean unceremoniously shoved to the floor when Sam returned with a handful of beers.

“Should we say something?” Jack asked, looking into his bottle before taking the first sip.

“Like what?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. Some kind of toast?”

“To saving the world,” Sam offered, raising his bottle. “… Again.”

“To a god-less universe,” Dean said.

“To family,” Castiel said quietly.

“To family,” all three of them echoed immediately.

It wasn’t long before Jack was holding back yawns, blinking hard to keep himself awake.

“You should rest,” Cas said, still only having an inkling of an idea of what they’d all been through. “All of you should.” He rose from his chair to encourage them to do the same.

“I suppose,” Jack said, finally letting out the yawn. He stood and started toward the hallway, then suddenly turned back and enveloped Cas in a tight hug. Cas closed his eyes and smiled, wrapping him arms around him. Jack held on to him a while longer, before letting go and wandering off to his room.

Sam pulled him into a hug next; it was bone-crushing and filled him with warmth. “Welcome back.” Then, he too left, bidding them goodnight.

Castiel looked to Dean and some of that warmth drained away. He craved the same embrace from Dean, the rare, too-tight, welcome-back-from-the-brink-of-death hug that he feared he was no longer allowed.

And then there he was, wrapped around him, clinging to him far tighter than either Jack or Sam had, as though he’d been holding back all this time.

Cas’ arms came up around him, still uncertain how he was supposed to react.

“We should talk,” Dean said. He held on a moment longer, before releasing the angel.

“Dean, I—” Cas started. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. But I meant what I said. I’m content with how things were.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not.”

Castiel’s heart sank in his chest. He didn’t understand.

“Dean—”

“Cas, please,” Dean said, cutting him off. “You got to say your truth, but I didn’t. Just… let me say this.”

Cas closed his mouth, then nodded.

Dean’s mouth opened, and for a long moment, nothing came out. He then let out a mirthless laugh. “I’m not good at this,” he said, shaking his head.

“Take your time,” Cas said.

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. He kept his eyes closed. Maybe it was easier that way. “I had a thousand chances to tell you, and I… I chickened out every time. Because I didn’t know if… it didn’t seem worth the risk, you know. And now here we are and I… I don’t know how to say it.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Dean.”

“I owe you _everything_ , Cas,” he said, opening his eyes again. “You’ve saved me more times than I can count, and in more ways that I can express. And I…” He paused, searching for the right words. “You never asked.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “What?”

“The thing you wanted, but thought you couldn’t have… you never asked.”

“What are you saying, Dean?” he asked. His heart was reaching toward a hope he never dared hope. If Dean was saying what he thought he was saying… that was everything. But if he was lost in misunderstanding… it would crush him.

“You have me,” Dean said. “You have me. You always did. Even when we were fighting, even at our _worst_.” Dean shrugged. “You had me.”

“Dean,” Cas said, reaching toward him.

And just like that, Dean’s arms were wrapped around him again, their lips pressed together.

A moment passed in shock. And then another.

And then, finally, his mind caught up to reality. He pressed back against Dean with equal fervor. His hand came up to Dean’s face, his thumb feeling the line of stubble along his jaw. He lowered it, feeling for the steady, rapid heartbeat in his chest. One of Dean’s arms tightened its hold around Cas’ middle, while the other caressed his face. All the sensations he’d never been allowed before. It was almost too much. And not enough.

Dean pulled away a fraction of an inch, resting their foreheads together. “I love you, too,” he breathed into him.

Castiel had been wrong before.

There was _freedom_ in saying it. But happiness came in the _having_.


End file.
